


Regeneration for dummies

by Cappyforever



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-03
Updated: 2015-01-03
Packaged: 2018-03-05 02:58:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3103004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cappyforever/pseuds/Cappyforever
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Twelfth Doctor is just his new self, sever smut ensue</p>
            </blockquote>





	Regeneration for dummies

Twelve…  
Twelve times he had gone through the agonizing shock of regeneration.  
Twelve times he lost control of himself, lost his memories and slowly and painfully regained them.  
Always slightly dazed and confused at first, catching up again with his surroundings, with his body, with his companions, if he had any.  
The last time he was lucky: a thousand years of knowledge and craziness reborn in a young body, gangly and uncoordinated yes, but strong and buzzing with energy.  
This time he could feel it wasn’t so smooth. He could feel a certain amount of stiffness, some tiredness even before the regeneration was complete, down to the bone, as if the new body was already used, and worn, and raggedy.  
He was the raggedy man, last time he presented his new self to a very young Amelia Pond, but only because his clothes were crumpled and he was confused and the Tardis was burning, and all was upside down, well beyond his control.  
Now he felt raggedy inside.  
He moved clumsily, trying to grab the Tardis console and stand, and felt someone by his side steadying him. A small voice, a little bit shaken, addressing him “Doctor, are you all right?”  
Big eyes, round face, lovely hair.  
“My Sarah Jane! I’m not bloody all right, am I? Rough regeneration, isn’t it?”  
“I’m not Sarah Jane”  
“You’re not?”  
He was halfway slumped, halfway standing, one arm across the console, the other wrapped to the shoulder of the lovely big eyes-round face, staring at him, concerned.  
“Not Sarah Jane… no. Not Rose either, you’re not blond. Because Rose is blond, even Martha knows that and is upset, because I’m a dirty old man longing for blond girls! But that was the other me, some time ago… So…”  
He tried to straighten himself, putting the girl at arm length and using her shoulders as leverage. He was dizzy again and puffed out some vortex energy.  
“Clara!”  
Big eyes-round face smiled warmly, looking intently as the Doctor collected his bearings.  
Clara, the girl who had travelled through all of his timelife to save him again and again: she knew all about his regenerations, she knew how it worked and how dangerous it could be sometimes, and she knew that his face would change, all of his body would change into someone else entirely.  
He moved his hands from her shoulders to cup her face, stroking softly her cheeks with his thumbs, trying to impress her features into his mind also through the tactile sensation: his thoughts were spinning, overwhelming chaos threatened to snatch him from reality, he needed to ground himself.  
Clara understood the emotional need immediately, she had watched him regenerate before, and could feel the confusion he was passing through by the shaking of his entire body.  
A very different one, that’s for sure: no more the young awkward boy, but a mature and grave complexion, some oxford like professor. The only common feature, he was always so thin you could cut yourself touching him at the wrong angle.  
But she didn’t care: she had cut herself so many times to save him, once more was inconsequential. So she shortened the distance between them and embraced him in a gentle hug, sustaining his weight and passing on love and acceptance.  
He moved his hands over her lovely hair, caressing her in a childish abandon, murmuring “My Clara… my Clara… my Clara…”  
Then suddenly he collapsed again while a residual bolt of energy escaped through his fingers.  
Clara managed to hold him, preoccupied, and even more so when she heard the moaning of the Tardis, in pain with her master.  
“Hold on Doctor, stay with me, I will bring you to your room and you will rest and will be better in no time. Doctor, come on, one step at a time”  
“Clara… I’m fine, I’m fine, I feel wonderfully alive… arghhhh… yes, perhaps a little bit tired, I may use a nap, but don’t worry we will be roaming the universe like crazy… I… I… wait… Sarah? Where’s the Brigadier? Have the Daleks taken the Brigadier?”  
“No, Doctor, shhh… no Daleks, no monsters, no dangers: we’re in the Tardis, we’re safe”  
“My Tardis… yes, she knows what I need, right. Not-Sarah, bring me to the library, there’s a book there, with the right recipe”  
“What recipe, Doctor?”  
“Soufflé girl, aren’t you?”  
“Yes, but you don’t need a soufflé right now, I think”  
“Don’t be silly! I need tea! Come, we must go to the library”  
The Doctor straightened himself with a jolt and took Clara’s hand, dragging her to the door of the consol room and striding fast through the long corridors. Although Clara’s worries, she couldn’t help herself from smiling with happiness: it felt so good to be held by hand by the Doctor, it was so right. She squeezed his hand and run beside him.  
The Tardis, as always, knew what the Doctor needed and rearranged herself to bring the library’s door as near as possible.  
“Ahah! Here we are!”  
He grinned like a maniac, like the old self, and walked straight to a bookshelf high in a corner. He shuffled through several books, till he found what he was searching for, passing it fast to Clara and collapsing again on a sofa. Clara managed to hold the book and ease him in a better position, then read the title.  
“Regeneration for Dummies?”  
“Yes, read it. It’s useful. I wrote it. Tea”  
He looked exhausted, speaking through clenched teeth, eyes closed.  
Clara searched for a summary, and then skipped fast to the right page, reading the Tea Chapter and trying to understand what to do. It was simple enough: make tea, strong and hot, add milk, add sugar, stir and inhale.  
Inhale?  
Well, it was the Doctor after all.  
She fast set into motion, the Tardis having prepared a kitchenette right in one corner of the library itself, never letting the Doctor out of her glance: he was exhaling vortex energy once more, and every now and again he was twitching wildly.  
Clara poured hot water on the fragrant leaves and returned by the sofa with a cup of aromatic jasmine tea. She set the cup on a nearby little table, sat near the Doctor, and gently touched his face.  
He opened his eyes suddenly, glaring at her in confusion.  
“River?”  
Far too many women in his life, though Clara bitterly, studying his new features.  
He was fifty-something, lean and tall. Handsome in a strange kind of way, reassuring, with an aura of authority, just like the Ninth incarnation, one of her favourite.  
He closed his eyes again and inhaled deeply. She took the cup of tea and held it closer to his face, so that he could feel the aroma more easily.  
The twitching vanished, the tendrils of energy escaping his lips became tenuous and faded slowly and his breathing became regular and deep, like that of a sleeping man.  
Clara remained on the sofa by his side, holding the cup of tea till it was cold.  
Then she put it again on the side table and looked around for a blanket.  
She too was very tired and the sofa was big enough, so she cuddled beside the Doctor and wrapped them both, while the Tardis hummed contentedly.

He woke up feeling refreshed, regaining consciousness very slowly.  
The tannin flavour of the infusion had done its work and the residues of vortex energy had dissipated with no harm.  
He opened his eyes and rolled on one side, bumping in the little form coiled beside him and still sleeping: Clara.  
She looked so childish and fragile… he moved some hair from her face, and for the first time he saw his own new hand.  
Crumpled and old.  
Not good.  
He touched his hair, his nose, his face and felt wrinkles all over it.  
Disentangling gently not to awake Clara, he managed to stand and he went directly for a little bathroom he knew was down the library. The mirror returned the image of an old man, with eyes so deep they could have contained the universe. And this was probably true.  
He felt suddenly sad.  
He didn’t want to have love strings to his companions, he always said so to himself, but with the most recent bodies he have had, it was kind of impossible not to fall in love and be loved in return.  
He really was a dirty old man… and now he looked like one.  
He passed his hands through his hair, not so lush and rich like the previous one, greyish even.  
Not ginger!  
Not ginger ever!  
“I like this new you”  
The Doctor turned startled: Clara was in the doorway, looking ruffled and sleepy, but beautiful and smiling.  
“I’m old” he said returning to face the mirror.  
“I know. I like it that this time it shows a bit”  
He made a face, she smiled even more.  
“How do you feel? Did the tea help?”  
He turned around and smiled fondly “Yes, it helped a lot. It was the very right thing to do”  
“I only followed the instructions”  
Clara moved toward him and hugged him, putting her face on his chest, and holding very tight.  
He hugged her back, remembering how it have felt the last time he did that, with the other self, remembering the quickening of his pulse and feeling exactly in the same way.  
“Your hearts are beating faster” she murmured.  
“I think it’s the residues of the regeneration energy”  
“Oh. I though it was because you were happy to hold me”  
“And that too”  
He felt suddenly awkward, remembering the witty way Clara used to flirting with him.  
She looked him in the eye, still smiling with a hint of malice, still close to him and warm.  
“I’m not… I mean, I’ve changed… “  
“I can see that”  
“I think…”  
“Don’t think”  
She was on her tiptoe, lips slightly parted, moving toward him.  
How can someone – anyone – resist to such an invitation?  
The Doctor sunk into her breath, seizing her lips like a ripe fruit. It was true: the residues of the regeneration energy were rippling through his body, and he needed some way to quench the fire. While the kiss deepened he wondered if that was the right way to do it, or the exact opposite.  
Then he stopped thinking for good.  
They managed to return to the sofa, Clara fumbling with her clothes. She wanted to be naked, in his arms, she wanted to feel all of her skin at his disposal, for him to touch just how he desired. She wanted to be a simple tool in his hands, she wanted him to be utterly and completely satisfied. No other thing mattered.

 

She never had this urge with his previous incarnations, she never felt so aroused in her entire life really.  
“Clara, I think you’ve been too close to me during all the regeneration process. You probably absorbed some of the energy I was pouring out, this is why you are bursting right now”  
“Are you reading my mind, Doctor?”  
“You are projecting so strongly I can’t do otherwise. It’s like you’re shouting”  
“If you can hear what I’m feeling and thinking, then act accordingly e do what I need you to do”  
She had managed to be almost completely naked, straddled across his lap: her breath was catching, her cheeks fluxed, her hair all over her face.  
He cupped one of her breast in one hand, caressing the pink nipple with his thumb. She caught his lips in a long kiss, mouth open and hungry, using her tongue to savour him, to drink him, to claim him. Her desire was blasting and hot, like her pussy already soaked and wet. She arched like a snake when the Doctor inserted one finger inside her, gasping his name.  
He was confused by this sudden turn of events, she had never before shown any interest of the sort, but her desire was so intense to have completely overwhelmed him, turning him on and hard as a rock.  
He was new to this body, and not so sure of his possible reactions. His last few incarnations were young and fit, and he had Rose and then River to fulfil all his needs: he had satisfied them both, over and over again, loving them with all his hearts and with the passion of a teenager.  
This was different though.  
He felt more confident and less eager to give in to the drive he felt in his groin, he wanted to take his time, slowly and playfully and make love to Clara for as long as she wanted.  
He embraced and grounded her on his cock, trapped in his trousers, and buried his face in her chest, kissing and licking her nipples.  
She was moaning and writhing, goose bumps all over her flesh.  
He lifted her and made her standing naked in front of him.  
He stood too, so much taller this time, and tossed aside all his clothes: they remained one in front of the other for a long time, watching without touching.  
She was round and pink and soft and luxurious.  
He was tall and lean and white and coiled like some dangerous wild animal ready to jump on a pray.  
She was burning.  
He was inhaling her scent, using it to strengthen himself.  
The Doctor moved and swiftly swung her in his arms, like a bride. Clara put her arms around his neck, her hands to his head and kissed him again on the mouth. It was a slow kiss, that turned him on even more.  
With Clara in his arms, both completely naked, the Doctor went to the door of the library, exited and went in another room with a gigantic bed in the middle of it. He put Clara down, gently, all the while caressing and kissing her all over.  
He kissed her stomach, her belly, her curly dark hair: then with infinite tenderness parted her legs, caressing her thighs and kissed her cunt.  
Clara moaned, guiding his head lower, spreading before him, offering her inner self without shyness.  
The Doctor used his tongue to tease her clitoris, and his fingers to fill her. She was wet and slick, ready to receive all of him, her inner muscle twitching and contracting in expectation.  
He went on for what seemed like an eternity of pleasure, Clara riding on the edge of her orgasm wanting more, wanting all of this never to end.  
The scent of her arousal, the heat of her cunt, all of her pulled on him like crazy.  
He began kissing his way back to her mouth, slowly, setting himself between her legs, taking his hard cock in one hand and guiding it through her opening.  
Clara cried his name again, moving her hips to help receive him.  
He entered with all his length, adjusting a little, retreating and pushing again till he was completely buried inside her.  
Clara shifted her legs higher, to let him enter some more and moaned something undistinguished: she opened her eyes to look at him with intensity and lust, brought her hands to his face and raised slightly to meet his mouth again. Kissing him was something luxurious, feeling his tongue was intoxicating.  
He began moving slowly, pinning her to the bed, his shaft so slick with her wetness that the movement was smooth and effortless. She was completely filled, his cock long and thick seemed to touch every crevice, brush every inner surface, inflame every nerve while building the most powerful orgasm she had ever had.  
Without quickening the pace, always steady and through, he went on kissing Clara mimicking with his tongue the same movements he was doing with his penis, pounding into her with sheer determination.  
With his hands he lifted her buttocks some more, hitting straight to her core, but it was not yet enough. He wanted her completely, he wanted to fill her everywhere, with everything: tongue, dick and fingers.  
He stretched his long arm, gently parted her bottom and began caressing her ass hole.  
It was lubricated too, from the juice coming freely from her cunt, and it was very easy to insert one long finger and then another.  
Clara cried with lust, the sound muffled by the infinite kiss they were engaging.  
The Doctor was inside every part of her: he was exploding in her cunt, rummaging in her ass, and eating her mouth.  
He increased slightly the pace, and Clara began to shake in his arms, moaning like crazy, arching her back to meet him even more, panting and riding her orgasm for what seemed like hours.  
Her cunt and her asshole were contracting all around him, and knowing it was exactly the right moment, he too went over the edge and spilled himself with powerful, long thrust, again and again.  
They remained still for some long minutes, always kissing, then the Doctor removed his fingers, and slowly released his cock. He moved to the side, embracing her, cuddling Clara in her arms, never letting go.  



End file.
